


counting down the hours

by itsactuallycorrine



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - TiMER, F/M, Soulmate-Identifying Timers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 02:28:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3364358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsactuallycorrine/pseuds/itsactuallycorrine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke Griffin's TiMER is blank, has always been blank.</p>
            </blockquote>





	counting down the hours

Clarke’s TiMER is blank, has always been blank from the moment she’s had it installed and it hasn’t ever bothered her. After all, it wasn’t her idea to have it done – it was a gift from her mother for her 15th birthday and how could Clarke say no when Abby had been so excited?

Frankly, the first few years, it’s a relief that it’s blank.

At first it’s because the idea of finding The One when you’re still in high school is overwhelming, to say the least.

Then it’s because she’s so busy in undergrad that she doesn’t know how she’d fit in a relationship on top of everything else.

Right before she’s set to go off to med school, though, it’s because of him. He of the dark hair and dark eyes and cute smirk.

Finn Collins is a revelation to Clarke and she falls for him quickly and completely. He, of course, doesn’t have a TiMER, because the idea of anything thwarting his free will is repugnant and when he tells Clarke this, he’s so passionately self-righteous that she swoons, just a little.

This period is the first time she considers having her TiMER removed. After all, she reasons, if she loves Finn and he loves her, why does she need a biological system to tell her it’s meant to be?

When she finds out about Raven, his girlfriend from back home, she’s heartbroken and angry and, most of all, relieved that she didn’t remove the TiMER.

Going into med school, Clarke considers the TiMER a symbol of hope that hersoul mate is still out there, somewhere, walking around with an empty wrist.

As the years pass, as Clarke completes school and begins her residency, as she meets new people, dates, matures, it starts to get to her.That damn blank TiMER with its sterile interface, mocking her from her wrist.

She’s scowling at the thin piece of plastic embedded in her left wrist while sitting in the hospital cafeteria one morning after a particularly grueling shift and hears a familiar chuckle from beside her.

“What’d it ever do to you?” Octavia Blake, a nurse Clarke has worked with occasionally, asks with a grin, picking up her tray and moving to join Clarke at her table.

“It’s mocking me.” Clarke blinks blearily at Octavia then sighs, turning the TiMER to face her. “It’s been blank for as long as I’ve had it.”

“Really?!” Octavia leans forward in curiosity. “I’ve heard of that happening, but I’ve never really met anyone like that before. What does it mean?”

“My soul mate doesn’t have a TiMER. Or at least that’s what the ‘matchmaker’ told me when I asked about it.” Clarke shrugs bad-temperedly. “Who doesn’t have a TiMER in this day and age?”

“My brother,” Octavia answers immediately then nods when Clarke looks at her in shock. “Actually I know a few people who don’t. It’s kind of a luxury item, you know? People in my neighborhood don’t really have the extra money to spend on something like that.”

Shame writhes through Clarke’s stomach. “I’m sorry, Octavia. But you have one?”

Octavia waves off her apology then nods. “Bellamy – that’s my brother – he scrimped and saved to be able to get me one on my 18th birthday, because I wouldn’t stop talking about it. The joke was on him, though, when it only showed a few days’ time after they installed it.”

“A few days?!” Clarke looks at her in shock. “So you’ve already met your soul mate?”

A flash of a diamond ring on her left hand is Octavia’s answer to that question. “I met Lincoln exactly four days after having it installed. He was 25. Bell hit the roof.” She grins cheekily and Clarke can’t help but laugh.

“And that was it, you guys just hit it off and now you’re getting married?”

Octavia snorts. “I wish. It was a long, hard road to get where we are today. That’s one disclaimer you never see on the commercials – the TiMER may help you meet the person you’re meant to be with, but that doesn’t mean the path to true love will run smoothly.”

Clarke opens her mouth to ask another question, but happens to catch the time out of the corner of her eye. “Damn, I’ve got to go, but we should get dinner or something if we ever get our schedules aligned.”

“I’d like that,” Octavia says with a smile, waving her off as Clarke all but runs out of the cafeteria.

She’s just changed out of her scrubs into her street clothes and is on her way out the door to make the meeting to sign her new lease when she slams into something solid.

“Watch it,” a deep voice barks at her, hands firmly setting her back.

Clarke has an apology half-way to the tip of her tongue before she registers his rudeness and she tips her face up to scowl at him. “You’re not even supposed to be in this area! It’s restricted to hospital personnel.”

"Listen, lady, I just came off the shift from hell-" And it’s not until then that Clarke notices the dark blue Boston PD uniform, but that doesn’t stop her.

"That must be so hard for you," she says dryly. "It’s not like anyone in this hospital has to go through something like that."

And if her tone is dry, his is the Sahara. “Cute.” He slides her a considering look with dark eyes. “Nurse?”

She smiles thinly at his assumption. “Doctor.” Then she notices the clock behind him. “A late doctor at that. Are we done here?”

He raises his chin in assent and Clarke finally takes a moment to look at his face - his quite attractive face at that, all cheekbones and bronze skin and freckles - before she huffs out a, “Good,” and moves past him.

Only to stop when he catches her arm. “Wait, do you know Octavia Blake? I’m looking for her.”

Clarke looks back at him, then down to his chest where the black nameplate reads BLAKE, and glances up at him in surprise. “Bellamy?” At his confused frown, she explains, “I was just in the cafeteria with Octavia and she was telling me about you. She left out the charming personality, though.”

He side-eyes her but lets the remark pass. “The cafeteria - that’s…” and he points down the hall then to the left wordlessly and she nods.

"Can’t miss it. Anything else you need, Officer Blake?"

"Not at all, Doc. Just don’t leave the state in case you’re needed for further questioning," he says, tone serious, then breaks and smirks proudly at his own joke, looking away.

Clarke huffs out a reluctant laugh and echoes his earlier sentiment, “Cute,” before she pulls her arm free and races out the door, forgetting all about Bellamy Blake in her struggle to get to her building manager’s office on time.

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke and Octavia finally do get their schedules matched up a few weeks later, for one night only, and they both pounce on the opportunity to meet for dinner.

Octavia volunteers to cook and tells Clarke to bring a guest over, because there’s always plenty, so that’s how Clarke and Raven end up knocking on Octavia’s door one Friday night.

They are greeted by someone who is definitely not Octavia.

"Doc," Bellamy acknowledges with a smirk, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the door jamb. "Making a house call?"

"Yeah, the patient called about a large, unwanted growth that she needed surgically removed," she manages with a straight face, looking him up and down in his black t-shirt and well-worn jeans. "I can only assume she meant you."

The smirk grows into a good-natured smile as he takes a step back to let them in. “I guess that makes you ‘Clarke’ then?”

"And I’m Raven, in case you both forgot there was someone else standing here."

Startling a bit, Clarke and Bellamy look at Raven, the former in apology and the latter in barely concealed disinterest.

"Raven, this is Bellamy Blake, Octavia’s brother," Clarke finally says, remembering her manners.

Raven’s smile is all teeth. “Charmed.”

She gets a nod in reply before Bellamy leads them further into the small house. “O’s back in the kitchen, struggling through the recipe she found. I hope you both know you’re taking your lives into your own hands by eating her cooking.”

"That threat might hold a little more weight if you weren’t here to do the very same thing, big brother," Octavia says as the rest of the group joins her in the conjoined kitchen-dining room. "And I’m a great cook!" Her brother snorts and she shrugs him off. "Okay, I’m a capable cook. Lincoln’s been helping me."

Clarke and Raven follow Bellamy’s lead, taking seats around the dining room table. “Lincoln’s your fiance, right?” Clarke asks, not missing the way Bellamy grumbles. “Your soul mate?”

"Yep." Octavia looks up from the skillet she’s standing over to smile brightly while Bellamy groans.

Clarke turns to him. “What?”

He runs a hand over his face then meets Clarke’s gaze with accusing eyes. “Please don’t tell me you buy into all that soul mate/TiMER crap.” When she answers by showing her wrist and the white strip of plastic, he turns to Raven, who does the same with her right arm. “What is it with these things?” he asks in exasperation.

Raven shrugs. “I didn’t really understand it either until after I met Clarke.”

"Whoa, wait." Bellamy glances between the two of them. "Are you guys…"

"Soul mates?" Clarke rolls her eyes at him, then looks at her friend in consideration. "No, but that would have made things much less complicated."

Raven grins. “Can you imagine? God, that would’ve been a great story to tell people.” She turns to the Blake siblings to explain, “I met Clarke because she was dating my boyfriend.”

"Hey! Okay, to clarify, I didn’t know he already had a girlfriend.” Clarke nudges Raven’s shoulder.

"And then you guys both broke up with him and became friends? That’s… that’s inspirational," Octavia says with a delighted smile. "But how do the TiMERs factor in?"

"When I was dating Finn - that’s his name - he was so anti-TiMER that I almost got mine removed. After the fallout, it became kind of a security blanket for me. Maybe it was blank, but the hope was still out there and it would prevent anything like that from happening ever again."

"She was so passionate about it that I saved up to get one myself," Raven picks up the story, then smiles wryly. "Of course it hasn’t worked out as expected, since hers is still blank and mine has another 17 years on it."

Bellamy looks down at Clarke’s arm, now laying TiMER up on the table. “So the blank clock means what, your soul mate doesn’t have a TiMER or something?”

"Right." Clarke nods. "Which is why every guy I date without a TiMER gets the sales pitch of why they should at least go try. Because what’s the point in continuing with something if there’s no guarantee?"

Octavia makes an agreeing noise and turns back to the dinner. Clarke glances over at Bellamy in time to see him scowl. “You don’t agree?” she prods.

He wipes his face clean of expression and shrugs. “If that’s how you wanna live your life, who am I to judge?”

"Bell’s a romantic," Octavia says, crooning out the last word with a chuckle. "The idea of relationships having a ‘guarantee’ offends him on a deeply personal level."

"Hey." Bellamy’s features darken with mock offense. "Don’t go spreading that around. I have a reputation!"

Raven and Octavia laugh, but Clarke just looks at him in interest. “You’d really just rather take the chance?” she can’t keep from asking. “To invest time and emotion into a relationship, uncertain if it’s going to work out?”

"Of course." He meets her stare steadily and she can read the honesty in his dark eyes. "The uncertainty is half the excitement. What’s the fun if there’s not a little risk?"

Clarke holds his gaze and thinks over his words, weighing their merit, but ultimately shakes her head in disagreement, thinking of the heartbroken summer she’d spent when she was 22. “Agree to disagree. I never, ever want to go through that kind of heartbreak again.”

"And you think this," he taps on the screen of her TiMER, "is going to prevent heartbreak? Just because it goes off doesn’t mean you’ll just move straight to your happy ending; you can ask O about that. And then what happens if there’s some horrible tragedy and your soul mate is gone? Would you want to move on, knowing that no one else could ever measure up to what you’d had before?"

Flashes of her parents creep in and Clarke can feel her face closing off, the hardening of her eyes, as she pulls back in on herself, slowly drawing her arm out from underneath his hand. “Believe me, I’ve thought about it,” she says, clearing her throat and turning to Octavia. “How much longer for dinner?”

Octavia sends her a concerned frown then turns back to the skillet. “It’s just about there.”

Raven picks up the conversation from there, moving on to explaining her work at MIT to Bellamy and Octavia, but reaches under the table to rest her hand on Clarke’s. Clarke squeezes it briefly, thankful for the support, then does her best to avoid Bellamy’s eyes for the remainder of the evening.

Her phone chimes that night just as she’s getting ready for bed and she sees the text message from an unknown number.

**Sorry about tonight if I made you uncomfortable.**

There’s only one person it could have come from and just as she’s typing a reply, a second message comes through.

**This is Bellamy**

It makes her smile - just a little - as she texts back an, “ _It’s okay_ ,” adds his number to her contacts, and falls sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke feels like she barely has enough time to blink, let alone socialize over the past few months. Residency is kicking her ass and any time she’s off the clock, she walks around feeling just a touch more lively than a zombie and not looking much better.

So of course - of course - that’s when she runs into Bellamy at the grocery store.

She’s just turning around from picking out a pint (or two or three) of ice cream, only to jolt when she sees him looming over her cart, looking at its contents with interest. She blames the lack of sleep on the completely undignified noise she makes, as well as the ice cream she drops on her foot.

Cursing, she bends to pick it up, only to jump again when this causes the freezer door to slip from where it’s propped open against her hip and slam closed.

"You’re a mess, princess," he says, then chuckles when she raises her brow at the new nickname. "Isn’t that what people call you at the hospital? I could have sworn that’s what O told me…"

"God, I sincerely hope not." Clarke frowns at the thought. "Why would they call me ‘princess’, of all things?"

"Isn’t your mom the queen? Clarke Griffin, only daughter of Dr. Abigail Griffin, who just happens to be the Chief of Surgery at the same hospital. She’s also a close friend of Mayor Jaha, isn’t she? So I bet you run in all those fancy circles. Ergo, princess."

Throwing her ice cream in the cart and pointedly moving it away from him, Clarke grimaces. “What, did you run a background check on me?” When he just winces and looks away, she says in disbelief, “You ran a background check on me.”

He rubs at the back of his neck and gives her a sheepish smirk. “I take it Octavia hasn’t give you the ‘my brother is so overprotective, let me list the ways’ diatribe yet?”

She snorts and throws a bag of frozen french fries into her cart. “Are you serious? Your sister is a grown woman.”

"Yeah, well," he says in discomfort, following after her. "It’s hard to cut her loose when I’ve been the only one looking out for her for so long." Clarke looks at him in question at that. "Our mom died when I was 22 and O was 16. I got custody, just barely."

"I had no idea." Clarke shakes her head, seeing him in a new light. This time it’s him avoiding her stare, so she decides to play it off. "And I had no idea, because I waited - like a normal person - for someone to volunteer the information, instead of going digging through their past.”

He grins at her, unrepentant, dimple flashing, and for a moment she’s struck dumb. It’s a good thing he rarely smiles to that degree, she thinks, shaking herself to attention as he begins speaking. “Now that you know about my secret abuse of power, you have to tell me yours. So what is it? Writing yourself scripts? Palming tongue depressors? A latex glove fetish?”

She laughs to herself as she opens the cooler for frozen pizzas, only to stop short when she turns back around and finds him staring at her pizzas. “What?!” she asks, maybe a bit too defensively if his raised brow is anything to go by.

"For a doctor, you eat shit," he answers bluntly looking back into her cart. "Cookies, pizza, fries, ice cream - is this the first time you’ve ever been allowed to buy yourself food?"

"I’m stressed. When I’m stressed, I want to keep comfort food on hand. Plus it’s quick and I am really not a good cook - not even a capable one, like Octavia. And it’s cheaper than eating out.” She pushes the cart until she’s abreast of him and knocks his elbow with her own. “Where are your purchases so I can judge you, too?”

He ignores her question, looking forward, walking alongside her. “Maybe you should have someone who knows how to cook come over and show you. You could learn, dish by dish.”

"I would if I knew someone who could cook. I mean, Octavia can follow a recipe, but Raven’s worse than I am. Although Octavia did say that Lincoln taught her, so… Why are you back there?" Clarke asks, realizing Bellamy is no longer beside her.

Instead he’s stopped in the aisle, looking at her in bemusement. “Princess, I meant me. I could come over, show you how to cook a dish, maybe we could share it…”

"You," she echoes dumbly, then takes a step forward to peer up at him. "Are you - is this your way of asking me out?" Before he can answer, she presses forward. "Because I’m still not the kind of person who thrives on uncertainty or the thrill of the risk. I still want that guarantee and you made it clear that was not something you were willing to offer."

"Whoa, whoa. It’s just dinner. Can’t I offer you dinner without a guarantee?” He shakes his head at her. “Listen, how many dates do you usually give a guy before you, you know, do the hard press about the TiMER?”

"Seven," she says, resolute. She’s never wavered - never fewer, never more.

"Okay, let’s make a deal: you and me, seven dinners - the one at O’s does not count - and then we’ll re-evaluate.”

"Seven dates." She mulls it over in silence, watching the play of light and shadow across his face beneath the horrible grocery-store fluorescents, then breathes out a quiet sigh. "Alright, it’s a deal."

That blinding grin breaks across his face again and he rocks back on his heels. “Starting tonight,” he says, then peers at her cart. “Because it would be a crime to let you go home and eat all that crap. Stay here, I’ll go get some ingredients.”

He’s off before she can say anything and she wonders what the hell she’s doing.

 

* * *

 

 

Dating Bellamy Blake is full of surprises, the very least of which is the almost gourmet-level culinary skill he possesses. (He spent a few years working in kitchens all over the city to help put Octavia through nursing school before he enrolled in the police academy.)

Clarke learns a lot about him over the course of their few dates, when they manage to squeeze them in, between her schedule and his.

She learns he’s an expert hair braider and can paint toes with unerring skill. (Which she, of course, makes him prove once he claims both things.)

She learns that his best friend enrolled in the police academy before him and recently made detective. She also learns that said friend, who he only ever calls Miller and she has yet to ask if that’s a first or last name, was forced out of the closet when his TiMER went off during an away high school basketball game and he laid eyes on the AV technician at their rival school, a kid named Monty who he is still happily in a relationship with.

She learns that he never met his father and doesn’t even know if he and Octavia have the same dad and was picked on for being interracial growing up.

She learns that if Bellamy comes to care about someone, he gives his whole heart and is willing to live and die for his friends and family. (And she also learns that, no matter how much he pretends, this includes Lincoln, who he reluctantly admits is good for Octavia.)

She learns that he’s a great shoulder to cry on when she tells him about her father’s death and her mother’s impending second marriage.

She learns that he’s a toucher - a hand on her shoulder, on her knee, playing with her hair - but it’s not in a creepy, octopus-arms way.

She learns that his lips are as soft as they look, his hands big and firm, his body a solid warmth when he holds her.

She learns the little sounds he makes: the gravelly purr when she strokes her fingers through his hair, the groan when she scratches gently between his shoulder blades, the pained short whimper when she pulls back from a kiss.

She learns the extents of her will power - and his - when things start heating up and hands start roaming and they finally remember and pull back, faces flushed, lips swollen.

She learns that he can say so much with just a look of those intense, dark eyes. Eyes that tell her I didn’t expect this and I need you and I’m falling for you.

And somewhere over the course of seven short dates, she learns the excitement of uncertainty, the fun of the risk.

At the end of date seven, they’re tangled together in his bed, fully clothed, and he’s just nodded off as the sun begins to rise. Affection squeezing her chest, she looks at his face in the morning light, traces a finger over his features, wishing for her sketchpad, when her gaze catches on the TiMER.

That small and yet so weighty piece of plastic.

This is the second time in her entire life which Clarke considers having her TiMER removed.

 

* * *

 

"I think I’m going to have it removed," Clarke blurts out one day over her morning cereal.

Raven looks up at her in shock, choking on the mouthful of coffee. “Are you serious?” she asks hoarsely, coughing a bit to clear her throat. “Because of Bellamy?”

"Not because of Bellamy, per se, but because of how my time with him has been. I can’t help feeling that he was right about it all - about how unromantic a guarantee is, how much more exciting not knowing can be. I’ve never…” she trails off, can feel her face heating. “I’ve never felt like this,” she admits, voice low, staring down at the tabletop.

"Clarke, be very sure about this. Removal is permanent, you know. If things go haywire with Bellamy, you can never get another TiMER implant."

Clarke nods, putting her hand over Raven’s where it rests on the table. “I know. And I’m… I’m pretty sure. Will you go with me?”

Raven squeezes her fingers. “Of course.”

Two hours later, Clarke is laying on the slab in the installation room of the closest TiMER store to the hospital, back straight, shoulders squared, while her insides twist around in nerves. Raven is sitting silently beside her, leaning forward on the stool like she’s going to be expected to physically restrain Clarke at some point.

"Now, Clarke," Matchmaker Patty warns, "you know this is permanent and quite painful, right? And you’re willing to sign a disclaimer that you know this?"

"I am," Clarke says, voice projecting all of the calm she doesn’t feel. She takes the tablet from Patty and signs the digital line and breathes out a shaky breath as she leans back.

"If at anytime you change your mind during the procedure," Patty is saying as she readies her tools, "we can stop, until the implant is actually separated from your wrist. Just say the word."

Clarke looks away and thinks of Bellamy. “Do it.”

Patty’s mouth tightens into a thin line as she steps forward. “Very well.” She touches the edge of the TiMER briefly and lowers her tool to Clarke’s skin when the unthinkable happens:

The TiMER, frustratingly blank for over a dozen years, finally makes a noise, rolling the display to 00:00:00:00 and then chiming a handful of times.

"What is that?" Clarke asks, sitting upright. "What just happened?"

Matchmaker Patty is gaping at the TiMER, but shakes herself out of it. “Well, Clarke,” she says with a huge grin, “it appears as though your soul mate not only finally got around to getting their TiMER, but it’s someone you already know.”

Clarke’s heart falls into her stomach. There’s no way Bellamy would get a TiMER, he’d made that clear, but there are only a handful of people she can list off the top of her head that she knows who didn’t have a TiMER.

But the important part, the heartbreaking part, is that it wasn’t Bellamy.

Clarke bites her lip and lays back against the table, running her finger over the display. She turns to Raven who is staring at her, just as shocked. “I kind of still want it removed,” Clarke whispers. “If I remove it, it’s almost like it didn’t happen, right?”

Raven manages to close her mouth and gives Clarke a sympathetic look. “Do you really think you could do that? Keep going forward with Bellamy knowing that your soul mate is someone you know, knowing they’re really out there?”

Tears burn at the back of her eyes, so she lets her lids drop, inhaling deeply through her nose. “I think… I think I need to sleep on it.”

She feels someone pat her shoulder and opens her eyes to find Matchmaker Patty looking at her in concern. “That’s probably a good idea, honey. You just come on back tomorrow if you decide this is truly what you want.”

Patty walks out, leaving Raven alone with Clarke, who is still struggling to compose herself and gather her things.

They walk out into the bright lobby and Clarke looks at all the hopeful faces in the store and she wants to scream at all of them.

She nearly does when she hears her name called in an achingly familiar voice. Turning, she sees Bellamy and Octavia walking across the showroom toward them and the hot ball of grief in her stomach turns to stone. “Oh, God,” she croaks quietly, while Raven pats her on the back. She struggles to put a smile on her face when the Blake siblings finally make it to her. “Hey, guys! What are you doing here? Did they call you in for a testimonial or something, Octavia?”

Octavia looks to her brother and Clarke follows her gaze, noticing for the first time that Bellamy looks stricken, almost as sick to his stomach as Clarke is. “Can we talk somewhere privately, Clarke?” he asks, voice low, and she’s taken aback by his somber tone.

"Of course," she says, moving towards a quieter corner of the room, where the older, outdated models were displayed. "What’s going on?"

He sighs deeply then rubs the back of his neck. “I really don’t… God, I don’t know how to say this, Clarke, but I came here today to get a TiMER. I just - things were going so well for us, you know, and it means so much to you that I wanted to give you that, the guarantee you wanted. So please, please, know that I did this with the best of intentions.”

As the realization begins to dawn on Clarke, she feels the joy begin to bubble up. “Bellamy-” she begins, only to have him take her hand to cut her off.

"Just… I need to say this. I’m falling in love with you, Clarke, and that’s why I wanted to do… I would do anything for you, I hope you know that. And the stupid thing - it zeroed out and went off as soon as they put it in,” he says in an aching, confessional tone, turning his arm over to show her the display.

With reverent fingers, Clarke traces the edges of his TiMER, stark white against his bronze skin, and then smiles up at him. “Bellamy, I was coming here to have mine removed, because I realized that you were right - some things are better without the guarantee and falling for you was definitely one of them. But then the strangest thing happened - my TiMER started up, then zeroed out, and went off.” She flips her left arm to show him the inside of her wrist. “Because my soul mate finally had his TiMER installed and we had already met.”

"Clarke," he whispers, shaky fingers touching the display, and he manages an unsteady quiet laugh. "I wish I could say something sappy like ‘I knew it would be you’ but I was so scared that it wasn’t that I never even…" He pulls her into him, wrapping his arms around her tightly, as if he were scared to let go.

She smiles against his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his waist, “We don’t have to come up with a suitably sappy story just yet. We’ve got time.”

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to come talk to me on [tumblr](http://itsactuallycorrine.tumblr.com)


End file.
